Big Brother, Little Brother
by BeautifulLie1313
Summary: The love that an older brother feels for his younger brother is something irreplaceable. Sometimes I feel as though we have so much to say to each other, and yet we never talk. France, MPD!Spain.


**AN: I keep writing new things instead of writing the things I've already started. But now that I've gotten this plot bunny out of my head, I'll be able to focus. Hopefully. This can be seen as a companion fic to "Elementos en Contraste". It's the same premise, really. All the background you really need for this story is that Inquisition!Spain has come out when France is around, and he's gotten hurt from that. Any more questions? Let me know. Enjoy~ The lyrics are from "Structure" by InnerPartySystem. Definitely worth a listen by the way. **

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><p>"<em>Why did you change? Why did you bend and break? When the water turned to wine, did it feel the same?"<em>

Antonio was sick. Not the kind of sick where your nose runs, or you cough a lot, or the kind of sick that makes you throw up. The illness was in his head, and no one knew this better than Francis.

"Mon frère?" Francis asked, his voice laced with both concern and exhaustion. "Mon frère, can you hear me?" Antonio stared silently out the passenger window, giving no indication that he could hear the Frenchman. "Antonio… I guess not. Perhaps this means I can speak freely, non?" Still the Spanish man did not utter a word. Francis continued. "I miss you, you know. We've been around each other, sure, but… it hasn't been _you_, has it? I get maybe five minutes with _you_, and then someone else takes over. And he's you, too, I suppose, but he's not my brother. Francis sighed and ran a hand through sleek, golden tresses. "And even now, you're not here. You're lost in your thoughts, fighting the war that's been raging in your own mind. And this war, it hurts me too. I've certainly got the scars to prove it." A small pink tongue slipped out and traced the newest scar, one threatening to split his bottom lip in two.

"I know you don't mean to hurt me. As bitter as I may seem, I do understand that this is not _your_ will. Someone else has been orchestrating all your most recent actions, and _he's_ the one I blame. But not you. Never you. No matter what you do to me, we're still family." Francis reached out and set a hand on his brother's shoulder. Antonio did not react, simply continued to stare blankly out the window. "I wish I was smarter. I wish I had all the answers, ways to fix your problems, make things better. I _want_ to be the one to fix this, so we can go back to being brothers, best friends. I just want things to be normal between us again, and I know you want that too." He resettled both hands back on the wheel. "But I don't know what to do. I don't have _any_ answers, I'm just scared, for you, and… and of you. I know you don't want to hear that, but you _terrify_ me. It's not your fault, I suppose. It's not anyone's fault. Perhaps once you get better… if you get better… things can change." He laughed, short and bitter. "Why do I even bother saying all this? You can't hear me." He turned his head momentarily to look at Antonio. "Mon frère?" Silence. "Mon frère?" Still nothing. Francis felt idiotic for even trying. He set his eyes back on the road.

"Hermano." The word was quiet, almost unnoticeable, and said in a tone that seemed to betray the speaker's true age.

The rest of the trip was driven in silence, save for the occasional crunch of gravel on the road underneath the tires of Francis's car.

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><p>"<em>So sing your sad excuses, you've got the scars to prove it. And I'm sure they'll sing along."<em>

"Hermano?" Antonio knocked on his brother's bedroom door, even though he knew that at this hour, Francis was likely sleeping. He cautiously opened the door to find that he was correct in his assumptions. Antonio sat down on the floor and looked up that at the sleeping Frenchman, who seemed almost angelic in his unconscious state, blonde hair reflecting the moonlight and giving him a semblance of a halo. The Spaniard smiled weakly at this image. "Brother, sometimes I feel that you resent me. I just want to tell you…" He paused, as Francis was beginning to stir in his sleep. When he finally stilled, Antonio continued. "I just want to say that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that's happened, everything I've done to you. I'm sorry that I'm rarely there for you anymore. I wish that I could just _beat_ this thing already, and believe me, I'm trying. Ideally, things will go back to the way they used to be, the two of us, amigos y hermanos. These days… I'm not so sure. I will always be your brother, nothing can change that, but I wouldn't blame you if you no longer see me as a friend. I haven't… been very friendly, that's for sure. I apologize for that as well. You deserve a brother that will take care of you, keep you safe from harm, as I always tried to do when we were kids."

"Dios mios… you still seem so young to me. I know you hate it when I say that, little brother. 'Little brother'… I know you hate that, too, when I call you that. But it's what you are, and what you will always be to me. And I do not say it to mock you, I say it because… I love you, Francis. Romano means a lot to me, all my kids do, but before I had them it was just you and I, remember? The best of amigos, even though we had our ups and downs. All siblings fight, of course, but at the end of the day, we always love each other. It's a bit trickier with brothers because we men are somewhat clumsy with our emotions, but if I am speaking from the heart… the love that an older brother feels for his younger brother is something irreplaceable. It's practically immeasurable, that love, even if we don't always show it. I would give my life for you, and that's why…" Antonio trailed off, leaving that thought for later. "I've become a danger to you, have I not? You've certainly got enough scars to prove that. This was something that I never expected to happen. It damn near kills me to see you in pain, and knowing that _I _caused your pain makes me think that I have failed you as a big brother, that you'd just be better off with me gone. Of course, it's not quite as simple as pills or a handgun. Suicide… that would truly be the most selfish option. And I should hope that, bitter as you are, you don't want me dead."

"Though I wouldn't blame you." Antonio stood and looked down at Francis. "Sometimes I feel as though we have so much to say to each other, and yet we never talk. My fault, probably. Perhaps it's because there's never a right moment, or… perhaps I'm just a coward." He opened the door to leave. "Hasta mañana, Francis." He exited the room and shut the door behind him. "Hasta mañana, little brother."

"_Why did you change? Why did you bend and break? When the water turns to wine, it never feels the same."_


End file.
